


October in the Rain

by MittenWraith



Series: Everything is Subtext [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Human Castiel, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after the events of Revenge of the Subtext, the boys have returned to hunting once in a while. When October rolls around, Dean's expecting daily reports of demonic activity, hauntings, and witches being gross, because that's how October always goes for them. When nearly two weeks pass without a single peep from any sort of monster within a five hundred mile radius, it can't possibly mean anything good. Or at least Dean's convinced it can't possibly mean anything good.</p><p>Cas is happy to provide a diversion to take Dean's mind off his mounting paranoia that they're going to be swamped with hunting work eventually, because Halloween season is just like that for him. A different kind of swamping ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This story technically fits in the [Everything is Subtext](http://archiveofourown.org/series/327056) 'verse, but it takes place three months after Revenge of the Subtext. I'll eventually add it to that series, after I finish part 2. Yes! I skipped ahead and wrote part 3 before I finished part 2! Also, you don't need to have read RotS to enjoy this story. This is just a bit of happy fluff based on a series of disappointingly true events from my own life (with attached photographic evidence).

For mid-October, it’d been eerily quiet, hunting-wise at least. Dean figured at least part of the reason for that was Sam’s promise not to chase down every new lead he gets the moment it crosses the weird news wire; but even Sam had been hard pressed to find a case worth looking into for over a week now. And that was just not sitting right with Dean.

It was October, after all. The Month of Halloween. Every creepy critter’s favorite time to crawl out of the woodwork. The time of year for curious dabblers and idiot kids who found a creepy old spell book to try their hand at witchcraft, inadvertently making messes for hunters like Dean, Sam, and Cas to swoop in and clean up. Witches were definitely Dean’s least favorite kind of mess.

While it might’ve been dead quiet on the spooky side of the street, Dean was practically crawling out of his skin with the feeling that they’d be swamped with a whole month’s worth new cases all at once. It made it hard to enjoy the time off he practically had to beg Sam for just a few months ago.

That’s why Saturday morning found them leisurely enjoying breakfast in the bunker’s kitchen. Well, Cas seemed pretty leisurely about sipping his coffee and working his way through the crossword puzzle. Sam chugged down some horrid green health shake thing and then declined Dean’s offer of pancakes, but he seemed perfectly content to randomly click his way around the internet, occasionally commenting on interesting articles. The fact that none of the stories pointed to any sort of hunting work made it hard for Dean to focus on flipping the perfect flapjack.

“Dude!” Dean said, spinning around and waving his spatula in the air after Sam listed off the new movies playing in every theater within a fifty-mile radius. “Is there seriously nothing for us to do?”

Sam gave Dean a confused look and slowly raised a finger to point at the laptop screen. “I just said if you’re up for a drive to Hastings, Crimson Peak is showing tonight. Unless I’m mistaken, that qualifies as _something to do_.”

Cas looked up from his puzzle curiously. He glanced at Sam before turning his attention to Dean, who stood there staring at his brother. Dean gave a little snort of disgust and then turned to Cas and shook his head in a _can you believe this_ kind of way.

Dean turned back to the stove to flip the last pancake. “You know what I mean, Sammy. Usually by now the pre-Halloween monster rush is on. I can feel it out there, like I just _know_ it’s coming. It’s been too quiet.”

Sam snorted, and went back to googling or facetweeting or whatever the hell it was he did for fun, as Dean brought two stacks of pancakes to the table for him and Cas.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, shoving aside his puzzle and smothering his breakfast in maple syrup. “This smells delicious.”

Dean grunted out something that a generous person would translate as “you’re welcome,” and dug in. They ate in silence, other than the occasional clickity-clack of Sam’s keyboard, the scrape of a fork across a plate, or the odd quiet small talk that he and Cas fell into on occasion. Every topic from the origins of the universe to why some cars need the more expensive gas and some don’t was fair game. That morning, though, Dean just couldn’t shake the feeling that all this quiet could only mean they were in for an eventual deluge of supernatural crap.

When Dean couldn’t take it anymore (even though he did manage to finish his pancakes first), he dropped his fork on his plate and rested both hands on the table. The clattering noise drew Sam’s attention from his computer, and he sat quietly and patiently waiting for Dean to get whatever was bothering him off his chest.

“Don’t you feel it, Sam?” Dean was practically indignant. “It’s like the calm before the fucking hurricane! When have we ever had a quiet October before?”

Sam smirked. “What can I say? Maybe there’s just fewer stupid people who got their hands on grimoires this year?”

Dean tried to come up with a response to that, but in his experience there were never _fewer_ stupid people in the world. While he was busy working himself up to another outburst, Cas quietly unfolded the section of the paper his puzzle was on, and handed it to Dean.

“What’s this?” Dean looked from Cas, who sat there smiling placidly, to the paper, which had a full page ad for a local farmer’s pumpkin patch and open house event.

“They have a corn maze, hay rides, an apple orchard, and other seasonally appropriate activities,” Cas replied. “It’s not an actual haunting, but maybe it would take your mind off things for an evening.”

Dean studied the ad, bordered by black cats, jack o’lanterns, cartoon ghosts, and a witch riding a broomstick. Typical. He was about to laugh and tell Cas he wasn’t interested in fake ghosts, when one line on the page jumped out at him:

_Fresh homemade pies! Dozens of varieties baked daily!_

“Yeah.” He replied, clearing his throat. “Yeah we can drive out there if you’d like. Could be fun. We should get a pumpkin, I guess.”

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief, and then reached across the table to snatch the paper from him. Dean let him have it. He was too busy grinning at Cas, who was grinning right back at him.

~~~

Early that afternoon, Dean pulled the Impala into the muddy field that passed as a parking lot at the farm. Sam and Cas piled out of the car and headed toward the large shop inside a surprisingly clean and inviting building meant to look like an old-fashioned red barn. After apologizing to Baby for getting who the hell knows what kind of gross shit all up in her undercarriage, Dean jogged to catch up with them.

He took in the expected bales of hay, bundles of cornstalks, and kitchy scarecrows around the main building’s front doors, but something else immediately caught his attention.

“Whoa, do you smell that? It’s like heaven.”

“They have a bakery on the premises, Dean.” Cas said, taking Dean’s hand and letting himself be led to the source of the sweet aroma. “What did you expect it to smell like?”

“I dunno. Like farm, I guess? Cows and shit. Literally.”

“This is not a cow farm, Dean. Though I do believe they have one in their petting zoo.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “I think I’ll pass.”

The barn was set up with four long rows of tables and shelves running the length of the building, selling everything from pie and donuts to locally made arts and crafts. Dean headed straight for the baked goods, and dragged Cas the length of the building making a list of all the different things he planned to try. The huge open doors at the other end of the barn led to all the outdoor activities, and somehow Cas managed to convince Dean that they had to do something other than eat while they were there.

“I guess we can work up an appetite,” Dean replied, regretfully taking one last look back at the vast selection of delicacies before stepping out into the weak afternoon sun.

Cas shivered and zipped up his jacket as the wind picked up. “It’s chillier than I expected,” he said, looking up at the sky. Off in the distance, an ominous black storm cloud seemed to be rolling their way.

“Ugh. Is it supposed to rain?” Dean complained. “Why the hell did we come to a huge open field in the rain?”

“The forecast said there was only a twenty percent chance of showers,” Cas replied, staring intently at the clouds, as if he could hold them off with the power of positive thinking. Or with the power of glowering, in this case.

“That cloud didn’t get the message, then.” Dean looked around, and frowned. “Where the hell did Sammy go?”

Cas pointed at a hay wagon being pulled by a tractor toward the orchards on the other side of the farm. “There he goes.”

“Huh.” Sam waved from the back of the wagon and held up his hippie reusable grocery bags, and gestured out toward the fields of vegetables waiting to be harvested. “Guess we’re gonna be eating rabbit food this week.”

“He’s enjoying himself,” Cas said. “I think it’s nice.”

Dean looked around at the rest of the outdoor area. There was a section fenced off as a petting zoo, and he could see sheep, goats, chickens, and at least one cow. Definitely staying out of that area. Another field had several large slides, an oversized swing set, and various other Halloween-themed play areas crawling with kids, as well as a pavilion set up to sell hot coffee, sandwiches, and snacks. There really didn’t seem to be that much else going on.

“So what do you want to do while Farmer Sasquatch is bringing in the crops? Maybe go inside and have a slice of pie?” Dean asked hopefully as he drew Cas in and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

Cas smiled at Dean and leaned in to the hug, letting his hand settle around Dean’s waist. “I’d like to give that a try,” he said, pointing toward a wooden archway framing the entrance to the corn maze.

Dean looked at it skeptically, then looked up at the sky. The dark clouds were still off near the horizon, but they seemed to be creeping closer, and the wind had picked up even more in the few minutes they’d been outside.

“You think we have time to make it all the way through before that rain hits?”

Cas shrugged. “The sign says it’s only seven acres. If we’re efficient at finding our way through, we should make it in plenty of time.”

“It’s a maze, Cas,” Dean said, nuzzling his face down against the warmth of Cas’s neck. “It’s not designed for efficiency.”

Cas yelped when Dean’s wind-chilled nose hit the sensitive skin below his ear, and then remembered where they were. He opened his eyes and saw a woman standing by the playground, glaring daggers at them. Cas just glared back at her and let Dean hold on to him for a minute. It’s not like they were doing anything lascivious, anyway. But then he remembered the actual threat drawing ever closer.

“Dean,” he said, pushing against Dean’s shoulder, but refusing to let go of his waist. “Dean, the storm. If we’re going into the maze, we should go now.”

Dean took one last deep breath against Cas’s neck, enjoying the scent of his skin mixed with the smells from the bake shop and the crisp October air. It was an incredibly soothing cocktail of Dean’s absolute favorite smells. He realized he hadn’t felt so calm and at ease in at least two weeks, since the beginning of October when he’d started anticipating daily reports of demon attacks and witch curses. By the time he blinked up at Cas, that ease was written across his face in a peaceful grin.

Cas couldn’t help but smile back, and then lean in for a quick kiss. That made Dean smile even wider. Before Dean could dive back in for another kiss, Cas turned them toward the corn field and led Dean into the maze.

Just inside the entrance, there were a few rowdy kids apparently playing hide and seek, or tag, or some combination of both judging from the squeals and screams. A group of parents were trying to round them all up and find the exit, and Dean wished them luck as they headed deeper into the maze.

A few minutes later they were deep in the heart of the corn field, stumbling into the third dead end in a row. They could still hear the noise of the playground, but it seemed distant and muffled by the cornstalks rustling and swaying in the wind. Dean finally couldn’t hold off any longer, and took advantage of the private little nook they found themselves in. He swung Cas around and pulled him in close.

It used to take Cas by surprise when Dean just gave in to the sudden urge to kiss him, but after three months, he’d almost grown to expect it. It still startled Dean sometimes when Cas took the same liberties with him, but hell if he was gonna complain about it.

Dean planted a kiss on the side of his mouth, and Cas responded immediately, returning the kiss with interest. In the secluded privacy of their hidden corner of the maze, it was all too easy to get lost in each other. After only a few minutes, though, the wind picked up even more, drowning out all other sounds besides the crackling of drying cornstalks being whipped around in the sudden gust.

They reluctantly pulled apart, and noticed that the storm cloud that had looked to be miles away was now practically on top of them.

Dean looked down at his watch, and then back at Cas. “Uh, how long were we standing here?”

Cas grinned back at Dean. “Nine minutes,” he replied.

“What? Were you counting Mississippi’s while we were making out or something?”

Cas shrugged. “It’s more of an educated estimate.”

Dean just stared at him for a second or two longer, unfortunately counting Mississippi’s because of his own stupid suggestion, and then said, “Yeah, we should probably get moving before the storm hits.”

They headed back into the maze, their steps quicker and more purposeful now. Unfortunately, purposeful didn’t necessarily translate into efficiency, just as Dean had predicted. They found themselves having to backtrack out of yet another dead end, before they realized they’d looped back around to another intersection they’d already visited twice from other directions.

“Dammit, how the hell do we get out of here?”

Cas looked around at the three paths branching out before them, and pointed to the one on the left. “That’s the only direction we haven’t tried yet.”

They managed to get maybe a dozen paces down the new path before the sky broke open. Within seconds the hard-packed clay beneath their feet was transformed into a slippery mud slick. Their first was instinct to huddle down against the cold, pelting rain. It was only another minute or two before their boots were covered with mud, and Dean realized they were gonna be soaked if they didn’t find shelter soon. They started jogging in a vain attempt to stay dry, which led to a near disaster as they slid around a turn and completely lost their footing. Cas grabbed on to Dean’s arm and somehow they managed to swing each other around and balance each other out so they didn’t end up crashing through the corn.

It was right about that point-- out of breath and shivering and practically soaked to the bone-- Dean made a suggestion. “We should take a shortcut,” he said, waving one hand in the general direction of the warm, dry, and pie-filled barn.

Despite the fact that they were both completely drenched, and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since the rain started, and the fact that the clouds were heavy enough to turn midafternoon as dark as late evening, Cas wouldn’t hear of it.

“That would be cheating, Dean,” Cas insisted, continuing along the path at a quick but still reasonably safe pace. “It also damages the corn and ruins the experience for the next visitors.”

Dean groaned, and hurried to catch up to him. “But we’re gonna catch our death out here. It’s fucking freezing, man.”

“We won’t die, Dean. We’re within shouting distance of the barn, and we must be nearing the exit by now.”

Dean just shook his head and followed Cas. Even if they found themselves miraculously transported back into the barn at that very moment, it wasn’t like the damage hadn’t already been done. Dean was pretty sure jumping in a lake couldn’t possibly make him any wetter than he already was.

By the time they found the exit five minutes later, the dirt path looked more like small river. It flowed into a swirling mud pond between the posts of a wooden archway marking the finish line.

Every inch of them was soaked through, Dean realized as he tried to wipe some of the rain from his face with the hem of his shirt. He wrung out the soggy material and laughed, because at that point what else could he really do? Just for the hell of it, he grabbed Cas’s hand and grinned at him, pointing at the huge puddle. Cas caught on, and grinned back. Dean felt like a little kid for just a second as they made a run for it together, splashing and sliding through the mud and out onto the lawn running the length of the cornfield. It was only then, as their laughter died away, that they realized their error. The maze’s exit was on the opposite side of those seven acres of corn, and the shelter of the barn was barely visible off in the distance through the downpour.

They were miserable, cold, muddy, and shivering. The longer they walked, the less funny the whole situation became-- at least, to Dean. Cas had accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to be warm, dry, or comfortable any time soon, and decided he’d do whatever he could to make the most of the situation. Luckily for him, and unluckily for Dean, the trail leading back to the barn was lined with animal-related exhibits. At the very first sign they came to, Cas pulled out his phone to take a picture.

“Really man?” Dean asked, fighting off a shiver as Cas tried to shield his phone from the rain. “We aren’t wet enough yet, so we gotta stand around getting wetter?”

“But they’re bee facts, Dean,” Cas replied, pointing to the colorfully painted sign as if that explained everything.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Bees. Great. Can we get moving now? Sam’s probably thinking we drowned out here by now.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” Cas replied, tucking his phone carefully into the pocket inside his coat, which was the last place on his entire body that wasn’t completely soaking wet.

Dean hurried them past the duck pond, a rabbit hutch, and the cow, who just stood there dripping and looking over at Dean as if to say _yeah we’re all miserable today._ The last animal pen they walked past at the petting farm held probably thirty goats, all huddled under a couple of makeshift shelters. Unlike the sympathetic cow stuck out in the rain, the goats stared at them like they were morons.

“Did that fucker just laugh at us?” Dean asked, not sure if he should feel resentful that they looked so glad to be dry, or just pissed off because they were goats, and goats always look a little smug. He stopped, tugging Cas back to his side so he could point out the little bastard. “That brown one laughed at us, Cas.”

As if to agree with Dean, the brown goat belted out another laugh. One side of Cas’s mouth quirked up in a tiny smile, and he looked from the offending goat to Dean. “His bleating was an expression of concern and empathy. It doesn’t translate well into English, but that was his intent.”

Dean froze, dropped his arm, and stared at Cas open-mouthed. “You speak goat?”

Cas’s smile slowly grew into a wide grin. “No, Dean. I just prefer to assume he’s not an asshole.”

Dean just shook his head and snorted, then gave Cas a quick kiss to distract him while he fished Cas’s phone back out to snap a picture of the goats. _For posterity, Cas._ Cas also prevented Dean from jumping the fence and huddling down with the goats for warmth.

“The barn is only a few hundred yards away, Dean. They have hot cider and fresh-baked pie. I believe you’d find that preferable to the goats.”

Dean couldn’t deny it, and they ran the rest of the way back to the warm and inviting shop. The parking lot was nearly empty when they got there, the rain having driven off most of the other, saner customers. Dean and Cas stood under the shelter of the barn’s overhanging roof and squeezed out as much water as they could from their hair and clothes before venturing indoors.

They found Sam browsing through an assortment of organic produce, his shopping basket already filled with apples and about nine different varieties of squash. He looked up at the approaching _squish squish squish_ noises their waterlogged boots made, and did a double take.

“What the hell did you two do?”

“Corn maze,” Dean grunted out, still shivering despite the comfortable warm temperature inside the barn.

“I didn’t know they could grow a corn maze through the middle of a river.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“We were halfway through when the rain started,” Cas answered.

Sam nodded like that was the answer he was looking for, and added. “Yeah, I got back inside just in time.”

Dean finally looked at the sign above the squash Sam was selecting. It read _Spaghetti Squash: Use it just like spaghetti!_

Dean groaned, but Sam agreed to buy him two pies to make up for the prospect of eating spaghetti squash. It didn’t really. “What’s wrong with spaghetti-spaghetti? This is just an abomination, Sam!”

“No one’s gonna force you to eat it, Dean.”

Sam crammed it into his overfilled basket and wandered off to browse a selection of jars filled with dried leaves and flowers that would’ve looked right at home in one of the bunker’s dusty old storage rooms. The sign above them insisted they contained herbal tea. Dean was still dubious. Cas led him away before he had a chance to say something regrettable to Sam about it.

“You’re cold and grumpy, Dean,” Cas told him.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“I know something that might help. Come with me.”

Just the way Cas said it made Dean feel a little warmer inside, and that triggered another one of those spontaneous urges to hold Cas tight. He flung his arm around Cas’s shoulders without thinking, and immediately felt a little better and a little worse. Touching Cas always felt good, but moving at all while wearing three layers of soaked flannel just felt gross.

Dean was pleased when they got to the bakery counter that in addition to food, they also served piping hot mulled cider. They each ordered a cup, and stood at the counter sharing a slice of apple pie fresh out of the oven.

“I think I can actually feel my toes again,” Dean said, swallowing the last gulp of cooling cider.

Cas had both hands wrapped around his cup, and Dean was pleased to see that he wasn’t shivering anymore either. “This definitely helped, then.”

Dean smiled, and leaned in close to Cas without touching him. “I’d hug you, but I think it’d wring out a huge puddle all over the floor, and I don’t want them to kick us out before I have a chance to pick out my pies.”

Cas grinned back at him, and Dean recognized the darkening look in his eyes. “Then we should probably hurry. I’m not sure how long I can control myself.”

Dean cleared his throat and tossed his empty cup into the trash while glancing around the rest of the shop to find Sam. He eventually spotted him up at the cash register, loading all his weirdo vegetables into his bags.

He and Cas each picked out a pie to take home, one pumpkin and one pecan. Cas also stopped by a display of handmade soaps when he noticed they were made with goat milk and honey. Dean wrinkled up his nose at the idea of rubbing goat _anything_ all over himself, but Cas had to pick up every single variety of the soap to sniff them all until he found his favorite.

“See, Dean? It smells wonderful, doesn’t it?” Cas shoved the bar right up against Dean’s nose, and he didn’t have a choice but to smell it. He’d expected it to be gross, because goats smell gross. Instead it smelled a little milky and sweet.

“That’s actually really nice, Cas. Sorta smells like you.”

Cas just smiled at him serenely, and collected all six bars of the honey-scented soap before heading up to meet Sam at the register. Dean stopped along the way and picked up an apple cider donut for each of them, and a jar of honey as a surprise for Cas. Bee facts.

Sam let Dean and Cas ride the short distance home in the front seat, with the heat blasting, wrapped in blankets so they wouldn’t drip all over Baby’s upholstery. It wasn’t until they were hauling their purchases through the garage that Sam finally asked, “Hey, did either of you guys pick up a pumpkin?”

Dean looked at Cas, who shrugged, and said to Sam, “We thought you did.”

“Huh,” Sam said, and headed off toward the kitchen with his bags.

“Guess we have to go back for a pumpkin now,” Dean said, as he and Cas followed after Sam.

“Only if it’s not raining.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a play on the Frank Sinatra song September in the Rain.
> 
> The photos below the story are from my trip through the corn maze last week in the pouring damn rain. Because I am a dork, I stopped to take a picture of the Bee Facts sign (because Cas would've), and the brown goat at the far right DID actually laugh at me. I'm choosing to believe he was not an asshole anyway.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/), where I mostly flail about Supernatural.


End file.
